Seducing Darkness
by Seducing.The.Darkness
Summary: Natalie has a certain ability Tom Riddle needs. As they leave Hogwarts, he uses her to his advantage. She seduces her way to his good side and to achieve certain tasks for him. But a dark, evil love blossoms which causes the fall of the good side. Because


Power

Seducing Darkness

I. Power

If there was one thing I was certain of, it was that everyone desires power. In some way, they desire power, whether it is of others or themselves. They desire it. But the thought of someone wanting such an amount of power was unworldly.

But as I walked through the halls of Hogwarts, I saw him, tall, lean, a bit muscular, and handsome. Five girls stood across the corridor, staring at his handsome features. He stood there, against the wall, his hands in his pockets, the top few buttons of his button down undone, and his intent stare focused on the rafters of the ceiling. He intrigued me immediately. He never spoke to anyone but the professors. I conducted myself slightly the same, but he…was incomparable. It was the way that he kept to himself, yet it did not bother him. Tom Riddle was the most achieved student walking down the corridors of Hogwarts. I wasn't sure if it was his pure ambition, or if he was just bored. But I found myself dismissing it. I had better things to worry about besides boys. Besides him.

My life was nothing important though. I kept to myself righteously. I even had my own single bedroom like the richest of children, alone. But it wasn't how rich we were, it was how quick and how persuasive. My parents wanted me on my own, telling me that only purebloods were worthy. I, honestly, did not care. I could care less, actually. Just the thought of putting such effort into making such opinions sounds like such a waste of precious time. They make it out to seem as they have lives, but as I have observed throughout my sixteen years of living, I have come to the conclusion that they have none. Their bloodline is all they have and nothing more. I knew as soon as my father prepared me for school, when he pepped me on associating and infatuating with purebloods only – as little as I knew what that meant at the time – that I would have more than what my parents had: opinions and blood. No family, just blood. And no, we were not poor. We were quite affluent. But who needs money when you have magic? My father had accumulated quite a bank account over his years. We were the richest name, yet I never spoke to anyone.

I was never cast out by the others, but by myself instead. As I walked along the hallways, I could hear their whispers, expressing how I was just stuck up and thought I was better than everyone else. That was most likely because I was. And as I stayed silent, I observed. I was always observing. There was just something about human emotion. They were so easy to play with, emotions. All you would have to do is just say the right words, and the manipulation you would inflict on one individual would grant you total control over them. It would be so easy to get what you want – and all you would have to do is to break into their emotions.

Perhaps that was why Tom Riddle was so quiet all of the time. He never associated with anyone, and it puzzled me, and for that, I felt shame. I was ashamed because I knew my reasons for my ostracism, but knew none for his. I wished to know them. I dearly did. Once, I considered using manipulation to figure out what I wished to know of him, but I also told myself otherwise. It was none of my business. I had other things to worry about besides boys. Besides him. But he did intrigue me, and once again, I felt shame. It was so…typical. It was so…normal. Other girls would have died to be spoken to by him, yet I simply wanted to know why exactly he was so quiet. I was being nosy, yes, but I needed to know. But I was content with the fact that I would never know, for I would train myself not to care again.

But it wasn't like I could not convince him to tell me. In fact, in experimenting with human emotions, I found that I had a little talent in that in particular field. My mother told me that I should become a psychologist, but I refused her. I had found my way to an ability that only the most power wizards can have. One of the abilities that you are born with and otherwise, cannot obtain. I had this ability, and at the ripe 'ol age of sixteen, I had already begun to master it. Compulsion. Clean and simple. I could have anything I wanted, even the stupid little explanation from our dear Tom. I didn't even need eye contact, but it helped. If I was concentrating enough, I could lure them in with my voice, but the eyes had so much more of an attractive affect.

I sat in the library, doing homework. It was Friday, and we had an extra day off, for Monday was a teachers' work day to get back on schedule after Christmas Holidays. I noticed how I was alone, save the librarian, until a too familiar face walked in. He walked so stiffly, and so tensely, as if he were to unwind, he would be attacked. I walked like a girl, but a bit more seductively. I would have to admit, I liked the fact that my skirt was three inches higher than the rule book requires, because it did attract attention from the guys. No, I was not a tease, but it was nice to have the reminder that I wasn't exactly detested, and it helped that this reminder came in the form of obsessed stares from the boys…and sometimes girls. And my interest in Tom vanished quickly as I looked at my long list of homework assignments. I then realized that there was a book that I needed in order to complete it. With a reluctant sigh, I got up, and I made my way to the bookcases, with not so much of a glance from Mr. Riddle.

I looked throughout the books for quite a while, almost ten minutes. I finally cam across a book that I actually had hopes in. _The Dark Arts, Advanced and Sophisticated Black Magic Made Strictly for Death. _I laughed at the long, dramatic title. But I supposed that maybe it meant the world to some wizards that had more on their mind, like impressing the defense against the dark arts teacher. I rounded the corner and made my way to the librarian's desk. I handed her the book without so much of a "please." But she eyed it skeptically. "My Dear," she stated, "I'm afraid to tell you that this book is supposed to be in the _restricted_ section."

"Well, then just tell me and give it to me anyway…" I muttered under my breath angrily. I had no time for this.

"I'm sorry, dear, but I can't let you take this…" she took it out of my grasp and placed it somewhere under her desk. If looks could kill, she would have dropped dead. But I thought that if I was going to make looks, I might as well put them to some use.

So I perked up, and looked her in the eye. Some people had caught me using compulsion once, and as I walked away, I could hear in their whispers. With compulsion, I was able to hear some thoughts echoing, but only those I had used compulsion, just then. They would think of how seductive I looked, but I wasn't looking for their body. I wanted their mind. I wanted to dive deep into their past. And just to play around a little, I did the same with the librarian. She was old, and most likely going to drop dead soon. So this would either be fun, or boring. Either way, it was going to be long. I adopted the most seductive expression, and I looked her deep into the eyes. I claimed her mind as mine and I dove into it. I could see visions of a man and a woman, fighting. They were most likely her parents. I could also see a young man, and then a tombstone with a name on it. He was most likely her sweetheart and, or husband. I could then see herself looking into her reflection as she would so delicately graze a finger over her aging features. And then, I could see a visual of her checking books in and out for the rest of her days. It made sense. She felt helplessness without something. That something was not revealed to me, I thought. But she felt as if she were going to die, right there, at her desk, with a book in her hand.

I smiled enticingly. "You wouldn't perhaps reconsider, now, would you?" The only thing I had against her was her age. She was old, and therefore, had a strong heart and mind. I realized that I could not perform my talent of compulsion on those with strong will. I never bothered with Dumbledore, or Slughorn. But this one was old, and withering like a flower and withering flowers lose their colors along with the stern in their stem. Her green eyes became deep pools from the murky green water of the black lake. She nodded and, slowly, pulled the book out from under her desk and handed it to me. As I took the book from her, I patted her fingers nicely, a gesture I gave rarely, and that was usually when I was doing a shameful deed. I took the book from her, and I made my way back to my things.

As I placed them inside my bag, and grabbed my cloaks to drape them over my arm, I felt eyes on me. I hoped I hadn't received a teacher's attention, but instead, I had received someone else's. Knowing before I even looked up, I saw Tom Riddle, staring at me, intently and bewildered. I wondered what I should have done. This was the first time I ever noticed anyone grab his attention – ever. His attention never strayed in the classrooms, and he gave no student the time of day. But how weird, that the first time he became intrigued in something, it was in me. How should I react? I thought. I could tell he was intrigued. He seemed so normal, holding the same impression others held when they were intrigued in something. But he wasn't normal. He was Tom Riddle. So I couldn't give him my normal reaction – apathetic glare. So this time, I smirked. I smirked and with a slight side-nod of my head, I smiled menacingly with my eyes and I grabbed my things to leave. I felt a certain sort of dominance as I walked out of the library, swaying my hips rather seductively. The reason why was that I noticed something about Tom Riddle that all the googly-eyed girls ignored. He had something to him, foulness, or a certain evil. He had not time for anything else. He was purely a loner, and always would be it seemed. He had plans, what those plans were for, I didn't know. But once again, it was my nosiness getting the best of me. I didn't care what his plans were, as long as they didn't' get in the way of mine, despite the fact that I didn't know what those plans were just yet.

I rounded the corner and made my way into the Slytherin common room. It was empty, as usual. Every Friday, the Slytherins would gather up a group and head out to the forbidden forest. How they got thirty-odd people out into the forest with drugs, beer, and other alcohol was a mystery to me! But they did. And that was thirty-odd people that didn't bother me on my Friday nights alone. While they had a godly amount of homework the next day, I would usually be half way completed with mine, because I didn't procrastinate. And if I must admit, I will. Since I looked down on all of the students here, and their God forsaken opinions on one another, I didn't hang out with any of them. So that left me with a heavenly amount of free time. Really, I would have it no other way.

I was about to collapse onto the couch, but I felt an arm take grasp of my elbow. I turned around to see Tom Riddle standing above me. He _towered_ over me with his tall and handsome features. I was a good five-five, five-six. He was more of five-eight or five-nine. He had probably already turned seventeen. He had the months on his side….damn. He had this look in his eye. As I suspected, he wasn't frightened, or scared. He wasn't intrigued anymore, either. It was more of a confused look. He was baffled. I outdid him, that's what happened. I searched his eyes for jealousy, and found some, fortunately for my ego. We stood there for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. I tried to look into his soul, and I felt like he was trying to look into my mind. I couldn't hear his thoughts, I couldn't see any memories, and I couldn't feel any emotion. I wasn't surprised. He was quite the wizard. It would make sense for him to have been able to block his mind the way he was expected. And I personally expected him to surpass the others expectations. He even surpassed my own.

Eventually, he just looked away. He shifted his gaze elsewhere and he turned to the boys' corridor. I smirked again. He seemed angry. Perhaps he did not like not being bowed down to by another human being like himself. However, I cared not too much. In fact, I detested it. Never would I bow down to anyone other than to my own reflection. But there was one thing I knew about Tom Riddle. With his power and his mind, if he wanted, he could have anything he wanted. He was so used to being on top, that he…probably saw something in someone else that he saw in himself. He found that something in me. He was quite charming. He had it as a tool and a natural instinct. I had it as a magical talent that could be taken to the next level. And he hated it. I could see it in the way he walked back to the boys' dormitory, practically stabbing the floor with his heel and the way he pressed his lips into one hard line when he looked at me. My great observation skills served me well in this little feat: Tom Riddle. I didn't expect to have anything to do with him anymore, because I knew he detested me. But as the days progressed…. I found myself falling more in more into the sea of big-headedness. I felt superior. And he would pick up on it. He always did. Teachers would feel superior around him, and I would notice with my observation skills. He would notice it as well, with his own. But he would make them pay, whether it was in class, or after. It was most likely after. And this was because he was a genius and he never let a good round of imagination go to waste. I must say, he truly outdid himself sometimes. I just hope he doesn't curse my pillow with deadly snakes like he did Amelia Parkinson - because I would truly have to take my vengeance.

--

The days and the weeks passed by, soon morphing into months, and carried the year by quickly. It was a month before O.W.L.s would show up and I was glad that my sixth year was coming to an end quickly and swiftly. I only wished that my seventh would be as quick, and I would be able to leave such a place full of judgment, denial, and sin. I had plans to escape to America, where I was born, in the states. I lived all my life in Europe, but America was my birthplace. Though, I didn't linger too much on the past. Yes, it is important to keep note, but the present is what you need to worry about. And that was one thing I was for sure that Tom Riddle and I did not have in common. I could just tell by his day dreaming and his ridiculous success that he was planning for the future and he would achieve it at a godly rate.

I was walking the halls late at night from coming back from the library. It was almost after hours, and it probably was. I was stupid enough to forget to use compulsion on the librarian so she would give me a pass, so, I would have to go the extra step and use compulsion on any prefect that showed their face. But, as luck would have it, as I was looking through my book, I ran into something rock hard – probably the wall – and I looked up. It was no wall. It held the face of Tom Riddle, scowling down at me as he straightened up. I almost knocked him down it seemed. "Isn't it a little late to be outside the common room, Sterling," he spoke to me. I smirked at the thought of him still feeling confused and frustrated at his notice of my using compulsion. He apparently hadn't let it go. I wasn't going to bother using compulsion either, no, not on him. I would do this with him sober.

"Actually, it is," I replied, my eyes smirking at him, the side of my lips turned up as well. I circled him. He stood up straight and tall, stoic. His eyes didn't follow me. He only stared into space, his facial expression telling me how he was trying to keep it all in. He looked as if he were about to burst out into anger and rage. He was so jealous. Mr. Riddle was finally outdone. I observed him. He was tall, and thin. He didn't bother in Quidditch, so, I hadn't a clue how he stayed built. And I could tell he was built by his posture, and what little skin I could see. He was absent of his robes and had his sleeves pulled up, showing a muscular forearm. So, somehow, he was built. He must have run every morning. It was interesting how he would take it upon himself to look attractive, yet he still denied every girl. "But," I continued, finishing my observation of him, "I was at the library."

"Seducing the librarian, again, I see," he spat.

So he did notice, I concluded. I only played along. "Perhaps…" I gave. "But actually, the truth is…" - I looked to my feet as I interlocked my fingers behind my back, looked down to my feet, and back up as I focused all my weight on one foot. This complimented my hips - "…that I didn't really have a chance."

"Hmph," he sounded.

"You see, I was just too excited to get back with my new book that I managed to convince the librarian to check out again…"

He smirked knowingly. "Well, I wouldn't be surprised," he finally looked down on me. "But I've never seen compulsion used. I've read about it, yes, but so far, as an actual ability in the last one hundred years or so, it's been unheard of.

"Oh, really?" I asked. Of course I already knew this. I had done research on my own ability. "Did it tell you about people's past being revealed in some processes of compulsion, then?"

His eyes shot up at me. It wasn't a glare, but it wasn't realization either. It was a stern look, one of probably of jealousy somewhere in there, somewhere. "Well, as a matter of fact, no," was all he replied with.

I smiled mischievously back. We both seemed to smirk a lot. I cocked my head to my right, his left. I crept towards him, like a cat, gracefully. "Well, then, that's too bad."

Finally, he adopted a triumphant look. "And don't worry; you'll have plenty of time to explain it to me when you're in detention tomorrow. And I'll be sure to be the one to monitor it." My eyes widened. He had gotten me. He smirked, and passed me, and while doing so placed a slip of paper to my chest and releasing it once I pressed it to my breast bone in my hand. I hadn't even considered using compulsion afterward. I just stood there, dumbfounded that I had been brutally murdered at my own game. I finally smiled to myself. The maker of the game makes the rules. Therefore, I can change them. I wandered back to the common room with my things. I collapsed onto my bed. I had finally made contact with another student, and it wasn't threatening them if they didn't stop making out and move already. I had begun my favorite game. Mind games. And this…_was a game _I could _not_ lose. Even if I never told anyone, and even if I did, no one would understand, I would be able to die telling myself that I got the best of Tom Riddle, Mr. Genius Almighty.

--

I woke up Saturday with a smile. It was my day of detention with Riddle and I was sure that I was going to begin everything off nicely and triumphantly. I made my way down to the dungeons. As I had expected, I was the only one with detention. So I just sat there and waited. Only a few moments later did Riddle show up, walking as if he owned everything in sight and his robes bellowing behind him. I rolled my eyes. Well, I see he's in a good mood, I thought. He didn't say a word, all he did was slam down a book in front of me and flip to the inside of the cover. He pointed to an image of a book. "I want you to use your compulsion and get this book," he demanded.

Who did he think he was? Like I was going to be his slave or something? I didn't react volatile though. I only, calm and collect, responded, "What makes you think I would do this for you? I mean can't you just do it yourself, Mr. All Mighty?" My tone was viciously in a whisper.

He slammed his hands down onto the desk. "You will do it, or I will report you to Dumbledore!" His tone was strict and his eyes blazed fury. I hadn't even started and I was already winning.

"Ooh, black mail?" I cooed. "That certainly is…interesting…" I smiled evilly.

"Why haven't you used it on me?" he demanded. So, he was left out?

"No reason; I can if you want though," I offered, nearing him as I sat up.

He glared at me and turned away. "Never have I seen such ability," he stated.

"Well, well, well, are we jealous?"

"What an insult…" he spat. "Jealousy and envy are emotions only fit for the weak. They are weaknesses that I do not and refuse to have."

Wow, the one thing I had to work with, he didn't have. Well, apparently he did have them or he wouldn't have been fuming with rage. "Well then, why are you fuming…?" My eyes took him over. "Your breathing…" I breathed, "You're so angry… You look as if you're ready to Avada Kadavra me right here and now…" And now I was just insulting him. "Go ahead, Tom." He seethed at my calling him by his first name. I got up and sauntered over to him. "Curse me. I'm sure you can…" My voice was low and malicious. "I'm so…very…_sure_ you could. You could do anything you wanted…right?"

"I can do anything." He confirmed this rather confidently.

"-except convince one to do your bidding without a wand, spell, or potion, right?" He shifted uncomfortably.

He smirked. "Why are you so confident, Sterling?" he questioned.

"I have nothing to fear…" and with a gesture of my hand, papers took flight around the room, making a tornado of confusion, causing a ruckus, and the ruffling of the papers causing an effect on his annoyance. "I can handle anything…" The papers all burst into flame, sending ash into the still raging winds of the classroom. I felt sorry for whosever essays those were.

"Is that so…" I stopped showing off, and immediately, everything became back to normal, as if nothing had happened. I had been practicing he could tell. He now knew I wasn't weak. Compulsion worked on both matter and mind. I could have anything I wanted, and make anything happen with the right events.

I could easily feel him reaching for his wand I was so close to his vicinity. And just as easily, I reached my hand out and in a cloud of dark mist; his wand appeared in my hand.

"You have no idea…" I replied.

He looked down at my hand, and then back up at me. I expected him to be angry or defeated. He only smirked.

**SPOLER IN AUTHOR'S NOTE. Well, I must say…that I was rather…enjoyable. I have a sick obsession with Tom Riddle. I apologize for that. I'm beginning to route for him in the series… And just to note, this will have hardly anything to do with the books. I refuse to read DH because I'm kind of on strike… Don't ask. So, I'm just gonna wait 'til the movie comes out, and I'll find out what happens then. SPOILER So this is my own little story of how, if Natalie existed in the series, how Lord Voldemort came to power. **

-- 7 --


End file.
